Proteges
by mkaz
Summary: UPDATE: THE FINAL TWO CHAPTERS ADDED   When several murders are committed in a Sylaresque fashion, it brings several Heroes together to investigate.  The third book in a series.
1. Chapter 1

It was a quiet funeral. All of the family was there, which wasn't much, and his friends, which were even less. It rained lightly, and there was a chill in the air. Reid thought it was appropriate weather. In fact, that's what he told his twin brother, Jed.

Jed just shook his head as they watched the cemetery workers begin to lower the coffin into the earth. "I just can't believe he's gone. And the way he died…" He sniffed and began to walk up the hill back to the car.

Reid followed after him quickly. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. The cops don't know what happened to him. But I do."

Jed looked at his brother as they approached the car. "What happened?" he said in a hushed voice.

Reid motioned for him to get in the car, and as they drove away, he explained it.

"It was that serial killer that's been on the news. He did it."

"But why?"

Reid looked over at Jed with a condescending look. "Because he was special. And, being his brothers, we're special too."

Jed shook his head, almost shyly. "I'm not special, Reid. I've always been a nobody."

"Well, not anymore. We're not like other people, and we're going to use that to our advantage."

At this point, Jed had been looking out the window. He didn't like this conversation. Reid was always pushing him into something. He was devastated by their brother's death, and he wanted to see justice served, but he was afraid of going down the path Reid was beginning to lead him.

"I don't think I can--" Jed began, turning to look at Reid, then gasped. He wasn't there!

"Oh my—oh my God!" Jed cried. But then, he began to see the outline of a body in the seat, hands beginning to materialize on the steering wheel. Eventually Reid was back, smiling at Jed.

"How—how did you do that?" Jed asked in shock.

"I'm special," Reid smiled, now pulling into their parents' driveway where the funeral reception was going to be held. "And so are you."

Reid got out of the car and walked over to the passenger seat, opening the door. "Come on," he said to the stunned Jed. "We'll have something to eat, then go upstairs to our old bedroom…and work out our plan."

CCCCCCCCCCCCCC

They had been traveling for two days, going over 1,000 miles. They were now somewhere in Kansas, desperately looking for a hotel but seeing nothing but farmland.

Claire sat in the passenger seat, feeling awful, while Sylar gripped the steering wheel and looked around him frantically. She noticed his jittery behavior and called him on it.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked.

Sylar looked at her with almost a look of panic. "I'm a city person," he said. "Being out in the country like this makes me nervous."

"Why do you prefer cities?" she asked, wincing in her own pain.

"Because I was raised in the city. And…because it's easy to lose yourself in the city. You can be anonymous."

Claire nodded. "I guess for someone who…used to do what you did, the city is a good place to be. In a place like this, everyone can see how bad you are." With that last word, she moaned lightly.

Sylar heard it, but was too focused on getting them the hell out of there to ask what was bothering her. Finally, miraculously, there was a sign for a town in the next ten miles. Sylar hit the gas as hard as he could and they zoomed down the road.

They got to the little town, and instantly felt out of place. Their sleek new mustang was a glittering centerpiece compared to all of the pick up trucks, station wagons, and cars of the like—designed to carry young broods, livestock, and crops. Their career casual, dark clothing made them look like "city folk," Claire was sure.

They found a small motel in the center of town, and checked in. They were told they only had one vacancy, double beds. Sylar knew Claire would prefer her own room, but she seemed preoccupied with something. Which was fortunate, because he was in no mood to argue with her.

They got to their room, and immediately Sylar put his bags down and lay on one of the beds. He could hear Claire moving around lightly, probably putting things away, but he was too tired to ask. He was asleep before he knew it.

When he awoke again, it was nearly sunset. He looked at the time and realized that he had been sleeping for eight hours. He turned over onto his side, where the other bed was. But Claire was not there.

"Claire?" he called out, in a muffled voice, his face pressed against the pillows. No answer. Then his eyes focused on the next bed, the covers pulled back. He shot up out of bed and went over to it. There was a tennis-ball sized blood stain on the sheets. Granted, that was not a lot of blood, but what the hell was it doing there?

"Claire?" Sylar called out again, a little louder this time. "This is not funny!"

He walked to the bathroom, which was open. She wasn't in there. Then he looked in the trashcan which stood between the bedroom and the bathroom, and gasped. He pulled out the long, button-down white shirt she had been wearing. The bottom had blood on it.

Sylar was in a panic. Something had happened to her. But how could something have happened here, with him asleep in the very same room? How could she have gotten hurt, with all the powers he had? He didn't know what he was going to do, but he knew he had to find her.

He frantically tried to find the shoes he was wearing, and began to tie them up when the door began to open. Sylar stepped back and held up his hand, ready to repel the person who might have hurt Claire.

But then, much to his relief and bewilderment, it was Claire, holding a plastic bag from a local drugstore. She smiled sadly. "Hello," she said simply.

Sylar stood in shock, but quickly gathered himself. "What happened to you? Where the hell did you go? Did someone hurt you?" He fired the questions at her, finally putting his hands on her shoulders and looking at her in the face to make sure.

She looked up at him in perplexed surprise. "I'm fine, Sylar, thank you." She stepped out of his hands and walked to the bathroom.

"But—but—the sheet! There was blood on it! And—and your shirt! You're not fine, something happened!"

Claire blushed slightly, and turned her head. "It's nothing, Sylar. Just let it go."

"I'm not going to let it go! You don't just bleed for no reason."

She sighed, as if she was about to explain something to a child. "No, there was a very good reason. It happens to me quite often."

Sylar opened his mouth again, then realization hit him. He began to recall his sex education class in junior high. _Bleeding that happens often_. All he could say was, "Oh."

She nodded, looking somewhat embarrassed. "We've been running for a while, and I lost track of it. It was so painful yesterday, but I ignored it and went to sleep not long after you. I awoke when I felt my bed was wet. I got up and walked over to the drug store nearby and…bought what I needed."

Sylar felt just as embarrassed. But he pointed out, "the motel's sheets…"

"I already spoke to the front desk clerk about it and paid for them. She understood."

Sylar felt relief wash over him. Claire was fine. A bit uncomfortable and in pain, but fine. "Well, I'm sorry that has to happen to you," he told her, knowing how ridiculous it sounded.

Claire laughed gently. "To be honest with you…I'm glad it happened."

"What?" Sylar said in confusion. "Why would you be glad about having to go through that month after month?"

"Do you remember what happened about a month ago?" she asked him.

It became clear to him. They had been together in Washington a month ago. Wild, thoughtless, frenzied sex that brought them together on this journey.

She saw the realization on his face and nodded. "I do want to have children someday, but now is definitely not the time" she stated.

Sylar nodded whole-heartedly in agreement. Feeling drained by the experience, he sat down on his bed.

Claire began taking the sheets off of her own bed and laying them in the corner. "Do you want to have children someday?"

Sylar looked back at her. "I don't honestly know. I've only thought about myself for so long, I've never thought about caring for anyone else, even if it was my own child. And now…well, I don't think I'm the type of man any child would want as a father."

Claire smiled. "But they say a child changes everything about you."

Sylar returned the smile, but sadly. "A child may change you, but it can't erase the past."

Her bed now stripped down to the mattress, Claire lay down and faced Sylar. "The past is gone," she told him. "The worst it can do is haunt you."

Sylar chuckled at her subversive remark and lay down on his bed as well. After a few minutes, he looked over to see that Claire had fallen asleep. He turned back to the wall. He didn't want to tell Claire his true feelings about having a child; that there had been a child he had been interested in raising as his own. Indeed, he would rather have forgotten about it himself.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Mohinder stood at the stove, waiting for the eggs to set so that he could turn them over and create the perfect omelet. He wasn't used to cooking foods like this—cooking at all, actually—but now that he was the foster parent to Molly Walker, he had to learn. And the girl seemed to crave omelets. Mohinder chalked it up to her body recovering from her illness and needing protein for energy. Still, this was her third egg of the day, the first being scrambled for breakfast and a hard-boiled one for lunch. But after all she had endured, who was he to deny her what she wanted?

Molly watched her dark-skinned guardian cooking at the stove and frowned. She could feel his sadness. She wasn't an empath, just an intuitive little girl. The last year had been very difficult on him: losing his father, leaving his home, facing the Boogey-man. She had been through a lot too, but it seemed that everything was harder for Mohinder. At last, she put down her crayons and walked over to him, hugging his waist from behind.

Mohinder was surprised by the sudden pull on him, but he chuckled and said, "They're almost done, sweetheart. Be patient." He turned around and planted a kiss on her head.

Molly smiled. "I'm patient. I just thought you needed a hug."

The Indian geneticist smiled at her. "And it was a very nice one. Now, go set the table. I'll put these out soon."

The girl obediently set out the flatware, while Mohinder emptied the dish of eggs onto the plates. As they were about to eat, he asked, "Would you like the radio on?" To which she nodded.

They listened to the radio, Molly occasionally singing along to a song she knew, which made Mohinder smile secretly. But then, a voice came on and said something that chilled them both to the bone.

_On the news today, the body of a woman was found in the woods behind an Ann Arbor high school this morning. The top of her head had been cut away, leaving her brain exposed. Police are attributing this murder to the serial killer known as "Sylar."_

Molly looked at Mohinder, panic-stricken. "The Boogey Man! He's back!"

Mohinder was trying to think of the best away to answer the little girl when the phone rang. Somewhat relieved, he answered it. "Hello?" he said tensely.

"Did you just see the news?" the voice on the other end asked, with just as much stress.

Mohinder sighed. "Yes, Matt. I did. He's back," he replied, looking at Molly.

"Are you still living in Flushing?" Matt Parkman asked.

"Yes."

"I'm coming over now. We're going to work out a plan to stop him."

Mohinder paced back and forth. "Matt, are you sure you want to do this? You've only just recovered from your injuries."

"There's no better time than now. We need to act, and bring that son-of-a-bitch down, once and for all. You've got Molly; she'll locate him for us."

Mohinder really didn't want to bring Molly back to all of that mess again, but his duty was to protect her. Admittedly, her gift did provide a certain sense of security in knowing where danger might be. And in knowing the danger, Mohinder could keep her away from it.

"All right, Matt. Come when you can. Molly and I will be here."

Matt arrived three hours later. Leaning on his walking stick, he limped into Mohinder's apartment and gave his friend a hearty handshake. Molly he took in his arms and kissed on the cheek.

She smiled at him. "How's Janice and the baby?" she asked.

Matt smiled back. "They're doing great. The baby will be here in two months." He set Molly down.

"Now Molly," Mohinder began. "We want to find Sylar. Will you use your power to find him for us?"

"So…we can hide from him?" Molly asked hopefully.

The two men looked at each other. "No, Sweetie. So we can find him and punish him for what he's done," Matt explained.

Molly looked terrified. "He'll kill us!"

"No, he won't," Matt knelt down, and winced, feeling the pain as he did that. "We'll be prepared for him. We'll make sure that he doesn't hurt you, or me, or anyone else again. But we can't do that without your help. Please. Won't you help us?"

Molly looked over at her guardian, who nodded. "All right," she said. "Get me a map."

Now having the map, and going into her trance, Molly's mind began searching for Sylar. Suddenly, her eyes popped open.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Mohinder asked.

"Am I—am I looking for Sylar, or the guy who killed the man in Michigan?"

The two men looked at each other. "They're the same person," Matt said.

She shook her head. "When I try to think of the Boogey-Man and Michigan, my mind gets…mixed up."

Mohinder looked at Matt. What could that mean? Was it possible that Molly's power was breaking down because of her illness? Had Sylar gained some power that disrupted Molly's? But this wasn't the time. They needed to find Sylar, and the murder in Michigan was the place to start.

"Then…then look for the man who killed in Michigan," Mohinder told her. She nodded and went into her trance again. The two men watched as her hands began to move across the map, finally settling on the northeast part of the country.

She opened her eyes. "He's there," she pointed.

Mohinder held up the map. "Columbus, Ohio. He moves around fast."

"Well, he won't be doing any moving after I'm done with him." Matt stood up and looked at his friends. "We're going to Ohio, and we're going to end this, once and for all."

CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC

They were sitting in a café in New Mexico, sipping coffees and both feeling restless. They didn't really know where to go, or what to do next. Mr. Nakamura said he was sure that cases would find them, but Claire wasn't. She looked at her dark-haired companion and knew he was itching for action. She was sure that times like this probably reminded him of his first life, something he wanted to avoid at all costs.

The answer to her prayers came swiftly and disturbingly. She heard the people inside the lounging area talking in hurried, concern voices. Curious, she walked in, Sylar walking behind her.

Everyone was gathered around the small television, listening. That's when Claire heard it, and thought her heart stopped. Two people were found dead, one in Michigan, one in Illinois, their heads cut open and the brains removed. Slowly she turned to Sylar, a look of horror on her face. He returned the look, with a slow shaking of his head.

She ignored it. Tears already beginning to fall, she ran past him and out of the bar, hearing him call to her but ignoring it. She had almost gotten to the mustang when she felt her muscles stiffen and she stopped in her tracks. He was doing it again.

He came and stood in front of her. Her look was so enraged she could have burned a hole in solid metal.

"You lied to me," she whispered fiercely. "All this time, I thought you were trying to change, but you were just using me."

"Claire, listen to me," he said. "Those murders…they weren't me. I swear they weren't. I've been with you the entire time—you know that!"

Claire narrowed her eyes. "Why should I believe a murderer?" she spat.

Sylar felt his heart drop. "Fine," he said. He released her from his telekinetic hold and began to walk away.

As she watched him go, she heard herself call, "Hey!" He stopped and turned around. She walked up to him so that they were practically touching, and she looked him deep in the eyes.

"You're telling me the truth?" she asked in a low voice.

"Yes!"

"Swear to me then. Swear on your father's life." Claire knew that his father was the one person whose name he wouldn't betray.

He looked at her intensely, but said, "I swear on my father's life."

She took a deep breath, and relented. "Fine. We need to get back on the road and figure out how this is possible." They got into the car, Claire driving.

"It's a copycat killer," Sylar said flatly.

"Well, duh, that's what I figured," Claire said. "The question is, who is it, and how are they doing it?"

Sylar shook his head. "I thought I was so original. I thought that no one would ever try what I had done." He rubbed his chin and stared out of the window.

Claire saw that he was disturbed, but she didn't know if it was because someone had stolen his reputation, or because there were more murderers. So she decided to say something useful.

"If the last murder was in Michigan, maybe he's still there. We should head there."

Sylar shook his head. "If he's trying to be like me, then he's probably left the area already. I know I would."

Claire sighed in frustration. "So how are we going to find him, then?"

Sylar thought about it, then got an idea. "I'll draw him. Maybe something in the picture will lead us to him."

Claire pulled over to the side of the road, then reached for her purse and pulled out a pad of paper and a pencil. Handing it to Sylar, he looked at it incredulously. "You expect me to draw a detailed picture on that?"

She rolled her eyes. "Do you have anything better?

Looking at it again, he shook his head in agreement. He took it from her, then leaned his head back in the seat, exhaling deeply. Claire watched as his eyes turned from coal black to milky white, and he began drawing furiously on the paper. After five minutes, he suddenly took the pencil away, and his eyes returned to normal. He exhaled sharply.

"Let me see," Claire said eagerly.

It was set either at night or late day, because everything was bathed in shadow. There was a man standing in the middle of the street, his arms stiffly at his sides as if ready to do battle, a wild, almost demented, look in his eyes. He was standing near a street corner, but with the amount of darkness Sylar portrayed and the conventional, run of the mill atmosphere, the man could have been everywhere.

Claire sighed in disappointment. "You're going to need to draw again."

Sylar took the picture from her and looked at it closely. "Maybe not," he said. He held the paper up to his face, so closely it was practically touching his nose, then brought it down again. "Sharp and Wall," he said.

"What?"

Sylar looked at Claire. "The street sign on the street corner—it reads 'Sharp' and 'Wall.'"

"So we need to find a city which has two intersecting streets with those names," Claire sighed. "I just wonder how many there are."

Sylar folded up the picture and put it in his pocket. "Time to find the library."

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Matt, Mohinder and Molly landed in Columbus the next day. Once they were at the hotel, Mohinder laid Molly, who was by now exhausted and fast asleep, on the bed and closed the door to the bedroom. He sat in the chair outside in the hallway and rubbed his eyes.

Matt walked over to him. "We can't let her sleep, Mohinder. We need her to track him down—now!"

"She needs rest," Mohinder argued. "She's still recovering from her illness. And she's scared. Give her time."

"With every minute we wait, Sylar has another chance to kill," Matt retorted. "We need Molly to find him!"

Mohinder sighed. "I'll go wake her up."

"I'm sorry love, but we need you to find Sylar again. Now, here's a map of Columbus. Can you try?" Mohinder asked. He hated pushing his young charge like this, but he felt a debt to Matt for some reason. The man had suffered much in the last few months, and Mohinder wanted to give him a measure of satisfaction.

Molly sighed and nodded. She went into her trance and starting moving her hands, then opened her eyes. "The Boogey-Man isn't here," she told them.

"What do you mean, Molly? You told us that he was here in Ohio!" Matt argued.

"Yes. The man who did the murder in Michigan is here. But the Boogey-Man is not. At least…not yet," Molly said, a worried look on her face.

Mohinder and Matt looked at each other, then went out into the hallway to talk.

"It must be a power Sylar has gained," Mohinder said softly to Matt. "Somehow, he's been able to disrupt her ability, making her find him in places where he's not."

Matt sighed and pressed his head against the wall. "So…now what do we do? Our tracking system isn't working, he's still committing murders…"

Mohinder then got an idea. He went back in to see Molly, who was now surfing through the channels on the television. He sat on the bed with her and pulled her against him.

"Sweetheart," he began. "When you just did the search, you said that the…Boogey-Man wasn't in Columbus. So where was he?"

Molly shrugged. "He was…"

"Yes? He was where?" Mohinder urged.

"I think…he was on a plane. All I could see were clouds."

Mohinder widened his eyes. "Do you know where he was going?"

Molly shook her head sadly. "I just know that he was traveling on a plane."

Mohinder's mind raced. "Sweetheart, I want you to find him again. Only this time, only think of the man who did the murders in Michigan." He put the map in front of her, and waited.

A few minutes later, Mohinder walked out of the bedroom and shut the door, lost in thought.

"Mohinder?" Matt asked. The geneticist looked up.

"So…? What did she say?"

Mohinder chuckled mirthlessly and said, "I didn't think it was possible…but…I think we're dealing with two killers."

Matt was puzzled. "What?"

"When Molly thinks of Sylar, she sees him on a plane," Mohinder explained. "But I just had her think of the man who killed in Michigan, and again she identified him in Columbus. She was even able to pick out a place where he was right now. I…I don't think we're dealing with the same man."

Matt wasn't so easily convinced. "But he might be disrupting her power, or--"

"Or there might be more going on than we think," Mohinder interrupted. "Look, I have a street corner that Molly gave me. I think we should check it out."

CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC

Claire and Sylar got off the plane in the afternoon, then immediately got into a cab to find the street corner in Columbus that he had drawn.

"That was the future I painted, you know," Sylar said. "He might not be there now."

"I know," Claire said. "But we've got no other leads. We'll have to go there."

Sylar smirked and stepped aside. "You lead the way, Chief."

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

It really was thrilling, this chase. Knowing that Sylar would track him down, thinking to make him pay. But then the tables would turn, and he'd make that cold-blooded murderer hurt like he'd never hurt before.

He had been keeping track of his movements for quite some time, and after he saw Sylar moving east, he knew he should do that too. He'd left a nice trail of killings to arouse his attention, then he decided to sit still and allow Sylar to find him. Once he knew that Sylar was in his vicinity, he'd leave him a little love note, just so he'd know that he was thinking of him.

"You son of a bitch," he said out loud. "You're going to pay for what you've done to me."

CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC

Matt had rented a car, and with Mohinder and Molly with him, he drove to the street corner where the little girl had pinpointed the killer's location. Parking in the alleyway, he looked cautiously around, then took out his gun and cocked it.

He looked at his allies. "I'm ready," he said.

Mohinder took Molly's hand and squeezed it. "Sweetheart, you stay in the car. We'll lock the doors. If there is any trouble, I want you to hide on the floor, ok?" Molly swallowed and nodded.

The two men got out of the car, Matt leading. The alleyway seemed quite long, but they were nearly onto the street and could hear the sounds of people's voices and pedestrians.

Then they heard a voice behind them that made the hair on the backs of their necks stand up. "Looks like we have a reunion."

Matt and Mohinder spun around to find Sylar standing there. This was the moment they had waited for—and dreaded. The murderer of their nightmares was here.


	2. Chapter 2

"Sylar!" Mohinder cried. Matt didn't bother to speak. Impetuously he fired three bullets at his enemy, only to have them stop in mid air and fall.

Sylar shook his head in condescension. "Parkman, Parkman. Didn't you learn anything from the last time you faced me?"

"Stop!" another voice cried. The three turned to see Claire Bennet, running towards them.

"Claire, get away from here!" Matt shouted at her.

Mohinder was sure that Sylar was going to attack the blonde haired girl, only to find, with surprise, that she now stood next to the killer.

"Officer Parkman, put away that gun," Claire pleaded. "Sylar isn't a threat anymore."

But Matt refused to listen. "He's a killer, Claire," he said. "I don't know how I'm going to do it, but I'm going to bring him down."

Claire stepped from Sylar's side and now stood in front of him. "Fire, then," she said. "You know what will happen if you do."

Mohinder couldn't believe what he was seeing. Claire Bennet, the cheerleader Sylar had been so intent on murdering for her power, was now protecting him! This was too much to comprehend.

"Claire, do you realize what this man has done?" he asked her. "He's killed over a dozen people!"

"I know he has," she said. "But he's reformed. He's not the person he was before. And—and this new killer, the one who killed in Illinois and Michigan, is a copy-cat. Please, I can vouch for him. We've been together for over a month now. He's not the one you're looking for."

Matt and Mohinder looked at each other. _Together?_ Was the thought that was running through Mohinder's head, and Matt could hear it. But when he listened in on Claire's—and Sylar's thoughts—he knew that things had changed.

He put his gun down. "Ok, I'm listening."

Claire turned to Sylar. "Go wait out on the street. I'll explain things to them."

Sylar looked down at her, then back to the two men who were watching him with distrustful eyes. "Why should I go anywhere? This issue concerns me as much as it does them, even more in fact."

Claire sighed in frustration. "I need to convince them that you're not planning anything. Please? Just do this for me. They're both upset by your being here. Let me try to put things right."

Sylar sighed, and relented. He walked out of the alley and onto the street.

Once he was gone, Claire turned to the two men. "I know this is going to sound like the biggest pile of crap, but Sylar has changed. He's not a killer anymore. He…cares for me, in his own sort of way. We were sent by a man named Mr. Nakamura to solve crimes involving extraordinary people, like us. That's why we're here."

Mohinder groaned. "Claire, did it ever occur to you that Sylar is using you? That he's just keeping you ignorant while he achieves his own ends? That's what he did to me. He seemed genuine, caring, and interested. But he had his own plan of evil to undertake, and I was his pawn!"

Claire looked at Mohinder evenly. "The things that have happened between the two of us didn't happen between the two of you. I'm very sure of that," she said, in an eerily confident voice.

Mohinder looked confused, but Matt had heard Claire's innermost thoughts at that moment and nearly gasped in shock. Claire glared at him with such intensity that he knew not to say a word.

Mohinder wasn't convinced. He pointed in the direction of the car and said, "I've got a child whose parents were murdered by Sylar! Even if what you've said is true, that he's reformed, I can't let that child anywhere near him! Do you know what would happen to her?"

"It's ok, Mohinder," a voice said. They all turned back to see Molly standing there.

Claire looked at the adorable little brunette, and her heart fell. If what Mohinder had said was true, that Sylar had killed this poor child's parents, how could she ever look at him again? Much to her surprise, the child went up to Claire and held out her hand.

"I'm Molly. You must be Claire. Your father loves you very much."

Slowly, Claire took the child's hand and shook it. The mention of her adoptive father made her chest feel warm with emotion. "Yes. Yes, I know he does, Molly. Thank you." She felt tears begin to form in her eyes, but she quickly shook them away. "Um…what's ok, Molly?" she wanted to know.

"That the Boogey-Man is going to be here. I knew he'd be here. I knew that I would see him again."

The child had said that with such solemn conviction that they were all taken aback. Mohinder knelt down and took Molly's hands in his. "Sweetheart, you don't have to stay here. We can go home right now, if you want."

"But, Mohinder--" Matt began.

"_I said_, she doesn't have to stay here," Mohinder interrupted, indignant. "She's a child, for God's sake. I should never have brought her here."

"No, I need to be here," Molly said. Her guardian turned back to look at her. "The new Boogey-Man is going to do something terrible, and you're going to need me then to find him."

"How do you know this, Molly?" Claire asked.

The child looked down. "I don't know," she said. "When I look for someone, I'm able to…to…see into them, for a little bit. I know that this new Boogey-Man is planning to do something very very bad. And we need to stop him."

Matt paced in place. "Well, even if that's true, we don't need Sylar. We can find the new killer ourselves."

"We do need Sylar," Molly said. "And we need Claire. That's why we're all here, together."

The three adults looked at one another. Finally, Claire asked, "Should I call Sylar back? Then we can find a private place and talk." Reluctantly, the two men agreed.

As they watched the young woman walk away, Mohinder turned to Matt. "What do you make of all this?"

"I'm not sure," Matt replied. "But I read both of their minds, and their stories are parallel. They really have been traveling together, trying to solve crimes."

Mohinder sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't see we have a choice. I guess it's better to have Sylar on our side."

"It is?"

"Yes, didn't you know? It's always good to be friends with dangerous people."

Claire found Sylar, who had been standing on the other side of the wall, and asked him to come back. They all returned to the car, and when Sylar was about to sit in the back, Matt stopped him.

"Hold it right there, killer," the former policeman said to Sylar. "If you're going to sit anywhere, it's going to be up front with me so I can keep an eye on you."

Sylar looked at Claire, who shrugged and nodded. With a sigh, he got into the front seat, while Mohinder and Claire sat on each side of Molly in the back.

"So, who are we looking for?" Matt asked as they got back on the road and headed for the hotel.

"We know it's a copycat killer. So…probably someone who admires…Sylar's past work," Claire suggested.

"Or, perhaps, someone with a vendetta against him. That widens the pool of possible suspects," Mohinder argued.

"We're going to need to look at the police and forensics reports on the murders, to get an idea of how this guy is doing it—whether he's got powers like me, or if he's merely simulating my techniques," Sylar said.

CCCCCCCCCCCCC

He had watched them from his hiding place, from the time they all met up to the moment they got into the car. So. Now he had two more to deal with, perhaps with powers as strong as Sylar's, though he doubted it. Sylar was one of a kind.

He had thought that he'd only need to contend with the Great Killer himself and the cute little blonde who had made herself his sidekick, but now things were getting more complicated. But that was all right. He wasn't afraid of a challenge. And now that they all knew about him, perhaps he should let them know that he knew about them too.

SSSSSSSSSS

Once they returned to the hotel, Mohinder immediately turned on his laptop and he and Claire began to search through all the available databases for information. Claire noticed that Matt and Mohinder both looked uneasy with Sylar there, so she tried to make him useful.

She left Mohinder's side and went up to him. "Why don't you try to get us a room in this hotel, preferably one near Matt's and Mohinder's?"

"Fine," Sylar said with a smirk. "I'm sure they'll understand that a bunch of…old friends ran into one another." With that, he left the room.

Matt groaned after he left. "Man, just having him around makes me uneasy. I'm going to have a hard time telling the creeps I get from him from the ones I get for the actual killer."

"Just focus on what we need to do for now," Claire advised. "I'll take care of Sylar."

Matt was curious as to how much influence the young woman had over Sylar, but now was not the time to ask.

Clicking away at the keys, Mohinder finally signaled to the rest of the group the he found something. Claire and Matt stood around him while Molly squeezed herself into his lap.

"Hmm…this is interesting. The killer cut off the tops of the heads in the exact same place that Sylar used to do it, only there weren't clean breaks like his work," Mohinder reported.

"What do you mean?" Matt asked, looking over the geneticist's shoulder at the report.

"The police said that it almost looked like the ends of the flesh had been burned. Like a laser had been taken to the flesh to produce a neat, cauterizing cut."

"So our killer doesn't have telekinesis like Sylar. He uses heatless energy," Claire deduced.

"It seems so," Mohinder agreed.

"So…the new Boogey-Man is just the opposite of the old one," Molly piped up. "The new one uses fire. The old one used cold."

"Are my ears burning?" A voice came from behind them. They looked up to see Sylar standing in the doorway.

Claire walked over to him. "Whoever this is, he's using some sort of cauterizing laser. That must be his power."

"And he's struck again," Sylar announced, much to the horror of his four team members. "I just saw it on the lobby television. Some man was just found dead, the top of his head cut open." He looked down at Claire. "It was on the same street we just came from—the one in my picture."

Claire's eyes widened. "We need to get down there again and get more information!"

Sylar shook his head. "Good luck with that. The place is crawling with cops. We'll never get anywhere near the scene."

"Oh, I think we can," Matt said with a smile. "I think I can put my power to good use. It's worked once before when I needed to get into Linderman's building; it can work now."

While Claire and Mohinder tried to gather more information, Sylar and Matt returned to the street corner where the crime had been committed. Matt and Sylar had gotten as far as the police tape when they stopped and began to look around.

"Have you found anyone yet?" Sylar asked.

Matt looked around, as if he could see thoughts as well as hear them. "No, not yet. This place is as dry as—no, wait. There it is."

_I hope Mulroney and Steiner get here soon. I just want to get all this damn paperwork settled and get out of here._

Matt looked in the direction of the thought and pinpointed it to the grey-haired man standing in front of the restaurant, where, presumably, the murder had been committed.

"Follow my lead," he told Sylar. They walked up to the man.

"Captain Jacobson?" Matt asked.

The man looked up. "Yes?"

"I'm Agent Devon Mulroney, this is Agent Andrew Steiner. I believe you've been waiting for us, sir?"

The man stepped forward slightly. "Oh yes. Good to meet you gentlemen," he replied, shaking hands with each. "I appreciate your promptness in the matter."

"Well, when it comes to special murder cases, we at the FBI take it very seriously," Matt stated.

"That's good to hear. Now, may I see your IDs?" Jacobson asked.

Matt froze. "Well, we have it, it's just in the, uh…"

Just then, a sudden gust of wind seemed to knock the police barrier down completely, frightening several onlookers and cops alike.

"Holy shit!" Jacobson cried, turning to look at the damage. "How the hell did that happen?" Soon, other officers were gathered around, attempting to put the police barrier back into place.

Matt and Sylar began to back away. "Well, I can see you've got your hands full, sir. Why don't we just find Detective Majors ourselves?"

Jacobson didn't even look up. "Yeah, yeah. Go do what you need. I'll be with you soon."

Matt and Sylar practically ran for the restaurant, Matt leading the way as he had had some experience with investigation. It was a small restaurant, only a bar, a few tables, and the kitchen in the back. They went to the kitchen to find the body of a man, lying on the ground, the head cut open and brains removed. Matt briefly winced as he remembered the crime scenes he had scene like this before, only to realize that he was standing next to the man who had committed them. The chalk outline had already been drawn around the body. A small, husky man was there with a younger woman, giving her instructions.

"Detective Majors? Agents Mulroney and Steiner from the FBI," Matt told them.

Majors eyed them suspiciously. "Can I help you gentlemen?"

"We're here for the investigation. Do you mind if we look around? We can take it from here. Captain Jacobson needs you outside."

Matt heard the man think, _Why are they bringing the feds in for this? It's our city, we'll handle it. It's only one guy, after all_.

"I know you probably don't appreciate the intrusion, Detective," Matt began, taking his clue from the man's thoughts, "but we're investigating three other murders like this in New York alone. We have a feeling we're dealing with more than one copy-cat killer, which makes it a case for the FBI."

Majors eyed them suspiciously, but nodded in acquiescence and left the kitchen with the young woman. As soon as they were gone, Sylar began to walk around the kitchen, looking closely at the order of the room.

"Do you know what you're looking for?" Matt asked.

"Of course," Sylar replied. "I told you, Parkman. I've already done this."

Matt stared at the tall serial killer. "You caused that police barrier to fall, didn't you?"

"Was it that obvious? I had to create some sort of diversion, seeing as how you were about to blow it for us." Sylar moved from looking around the room to the body, kneeling down in front of it.

Matt looked around, feeling anxious, then turned back to the taller man. He didn't really want to get in Sylar's way, but he also couldn't stand the silence. So he asked the first question that came to his mind. "So…I guess the wound you had been given healed."

"I wouldn't be here if it didn't," Sylar said, not looking up.

"It took me months to heal. I'm still not all the way there," Matt admitted, touching his side. Sylar merely grunted in reply. Matt suddenly felt infuriated.

"Doesn't it even bother you that you injured me? That I was at death's doorstep for a good long while? That my pregnant wife was terrified that her child was going to grow up without a father?"

With that, Sylar looked up from the body and at the other man. "Parkman, as far as I'm concerned, you can go put out both your eyes with a meat fork. But…I'm very sorry for your wife's suffering. My mother went through that when my father died, and I know that's not easy."

Parkman was struck by Sylar's words. He was somewhat touched for his concern for Janice, but then he remembered his first statement. "Why do you hate me so much?" he asked, knowing it sounded a little childish.

"Because you are unworthy of the gift you have. You have the extraordinary power of reading minds—a godlike ability—and all you want to do is give out speeding tickets and arrest pimps and thieves. I bet you still pick up thoughts involuntarily, don't you? You still haven't learned how to really harness the potential of your power."

Matt was confused. "What's wrong with wanting to have a normal life?"

"That's my problem exactly," Sylar said. "Why should nature give such incredible gifts to such low, unintelligent, unimaginative people like you? Most of the people I've met don't deserve to have power."

Matt was beyond irritation, but then he thought of a way to return the favor. "You said 'most people'. So is there anyone who is worthy of their gift?" he asked, knowing for sure what the answer would be.

"The only person so far is Claire. If it had been anyone else but her, you'd be looking for this copy-cat on your own."

"You changed your ways because of her. _Only_ because of her," Matt suggested. Sylar turned around and looked at him, pointedly. It was at that point that Matt not only heard Sylar's thoughts, but saw into his heart. It caught him off guard and he nearly stumbled.

Sylar nodded. "Yes. So now you know my little secret, Parkman. I hope I can trust you to keep your fat mouth shut about it."

Matt was about to retort when they heard someone coming. The two men ducked down and hid behind the counter. It was Jacobson, probably trying to figure out where his two visiting agents from the FBI had gone.

_You need to control his thoughts, Parkman_, Matt heard Sylar think. Jacobson was a few feet away, looking around the room.

"How?" Parkman whispered.

_Harness your power. If you can hear what's coming out, you can control what's going in_, Sylar replied in thought.

Matt shook his head. "It doesn't work that way."

Sylar rolled his eyes. _It will if you make it. You're never going to know your true potential if you don't test yourself. Focus on his thoughts. __Think __what you want his thoughts to be. Your thoughts will disrupt his. Do it!_

_Where the hell are those two morons? _Jacobson asked himself. Then, all of a sudden a thought came into his mind. _They're not important. Just keep gathering evidence._

Unsure of why he would have that thought, but feeling it course through his mind over and over again, Jacobson obeyed it and left to call his team back into the room.

As soon as he was gone, the two men slipped out of the kitchen through a back door that, thankfully, lead out onto the other side of the street.

"It worked!" Matt said, almost in elation. "That's never happened to me before."

"It wouldn't have if you didn't exercise some authority over the mind of someone else," Sylar said with a smirk. "Maybe you're not as stupid as I thought, Parkman." He began to walk back to the parked car. Matt scowled and followed behind.

CCCCCCCCCCCC

"How could we allow him to kill again?" Mohinder asked in anguish. "Even with someone as powerful as Sylar on our side, it happened."

"We can't prevent all bad things from happening at the same time," Claire said, trying to console him. "All we can do is our best."

Mohinder smiled grimly. "I never expected to find you here…with Sylar."

"Believe me, neither did I," Claire said wryly. "But…we see something in each other that other people don't. We have our moments, but we really do work well together."

"Is it only work, Claire?" the Indian geneticist asked as gently as he could.

Claire's eyes widened, but she smiled sadly. "It is—now."

Now it was Mohinder's turn to become wide-eyed. "Claire? You didn't—he didn't…"

He could barely get the words out. The young woman merely looked at him evenly.

"I-I can't imagine…"

"Then don't," Claire quipped. "Let's just focus on trying to figure out who this guy is."

Mohinder nodded. "Yes indeed. Now, the first victim was a man named Brian Randall, living in Illinois. He was found behind a grocery store, in the traditional Sylar-esque manner."

"Ok…what about the second victim?"

"Um…Jacqueline Forbes, of Ann Arbor, Michigan. She was found in the woods not too far away from a high school."

Claire wrinkled her brow in thought. Then, a thought came to her. "Mohinder, look up the local news. See if they have any news on the man that was found today."

Mohinder checked the news and came up successful. "Teddy Sontag. He worked as a waiter at the restaurant where he was found dead."

"Brian, Jackie, Ted," Claire said slowly. "This guy is murdering people who have the names of Sylar's previous victims. He…I think he's trying to reach out to Sylar!"

"You think that he's trying to challenge Sylar?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure what his deal is. Again, maybe he admires Sylar's work and is trying to imitate it."

"It would make sense why he kills people with the same names as Sylar's previous victims."

Just then, they heard the door turn and in came Matt and Sylar.

"Speak of the devil! What did you find out?" Claire asked.

Sylar took a deep breath. "This guy may do the ultimate kill like me, but all his actions prior to the murder are different."

"How so?" Mohinder asked.

"I saw bruises and cuts on the body at the restaurant. The guy was battered before he died. That wasn't my style. I was never interested in making people suffer; I only wanted to get what I was after and make it quick."

"Why would he want to torture his victims like that?" Matt asked.

Mohinder shrugged. "Misplaced rage, perhaps? Projecting his hatred of Sylar onto the victims."

"So that means that this guy is trying to get revenge on Sylar?" Claire asked.

"It would seem that way. I definitely have done enough to merit enemies."

"It's just that one of them was twisted enough to try to emulate you," Mohinder finished.

"So…what's our next move?" Claire asked.

"We track him down. Hopefully, he's still in the area," Matt replied.

"And we've got the perfect tracking system…little Molly," Sylar said in his snide way.

SSSSSSSSS

He now knew his next plan of attack. He had been hiding close by when he heard the Great Killer and his seemingly-unwilling partner discussing their past. He almost felt sorry for the other man. But he knew who Sylar was. He should have stayed clear.

When he got back to his lair, the other man with his face was there. "Reid?" he said. "What did you find out?"

"We've found the final portion of our revenge, bro," he said with a smile. "We don't need to sacrifice random lambs anymore. We've found our virgin….so to speak." He didn't doubt that Sylar had made love to the girl. It was almost too perfect. He was afraid that Sylar would be unaffected by his efforts; he was a killer after all. But he'd found his one weakness. God had listened to his prayers.

Reid's brother's eyes widened in fear. "I don't want to kill anymore. I just want Sylar to pay."

"I know you do, Jed," his brother reassured. "But once we do away with this one last girl, it will be done. Sylar will have lost everything. It will be worth all of our hard work these last couple of months."

Jed shook his head. "Three people we've killed. I can't forget that."

With that, Reid grabbed the collar of Jed's shirt. "You little coward! Have you forgotten what the Great Killer did to our brother? We can't let him get away with it! By any means necessary—remember?"

Jed swallowed and nodded. "You're right, Reid. I'm sorry."

Reid released this brother. "All right, then. I have a plan, and it's going to work, don't worry. All I need for you to do is to trust me and do what I say."

"I can do that."

"Good. Now, from what I gathered, they have a tracking system, and they've latched onto me. We're going to lead them right to us, and that's when the fun begins."

"And you're sure this will work?"

Reid smiled. "I guarantee by the end of tonight, this will all be over. One way, or another."


	3. Chapter 3

Jed couldn't help but think of how he first discovered his power. Reid beat it out of him. Literally.

"Fight back!" Reid roared as he threw punches at Jed. All Jed could do was avoid them and hold his arms against himself.

Reid kicked him, making Jed crumble into a dark corner. "You have a power in there somewhere! I'm going to get it out of you, no matter what it takes!"

Finally, Reid out of patience, Jed crying hysterically, Reid grabbed a shovel from the corner of the shed they were in and lunged at Jed.

Suddenly, a bright pink light shot out from the darkness and cut through the metal scoop of the shovel. Petrified, Reid just stared at the wooden handle he now held in his hands.

The light was coming from Jed's finger. Shaking, he pulled the digit into his chest and cradled it like a baby.

Finally Reid came to his senses and tossed the remnants of the shovel aside. Slowly he walked over to Jed and reached out his hand to clasp his shoulder. Jed shuddered and pulled away.

"I'm not going to hurt you, bro," Reid said gently. "I'm sorry I scared you. But we finally found your power! And it's given me an idea." Reid now sat himself down next to his brother, grasping his bended knees.

Before this breakthrough, after months of collecting all available information about this "Sylar," Reid had determined what they needed to do.

"We need to bait him somehow," Reid proposed. "He looks for people with powers. Somehow, we need to make him aware that we have something he wants. When he comes after us, we'll be ready."

"How do we do that?" Jed asked.

"Well, Sylar killed a girl in Texas after she came forth and admitted she'd saved a man from a fiery train wreck. Perhaps…we need to make ourselves known as heroes, then we'll get his attention."

"So…we need to do something heroic?"

"Yes," Reid told him. "But until we know what your power is, we can't do jack shit."

Now, with Jed revealing his heatless laser energy that shot from his finger, Reid realized that they didn't have to be heroes to get Sylar's attention.

"We're going to be Sylar's protégés, Jed," Reid told him, putting an arm around his still shaken brother.

"Wha-what do you mean, protégés?" Jed asked dumbly.

"Your power can simulate something Sylar loves to do. That's how we're going to get his attention. We'll bring him right to us."

"You don't mean," Jed whispered in terror, his eyes wide and searching. "You don't mean….we—we kill people, do you?"

Reid was afraid of this. Jed was always weak. And now, when he needed him to understand, he was worried about the minor details.

He put both his hands on his brother's shoulders. "We have to do what we have to do, Jed," Reid said, looking him in the eyes. "We've got nothing to lose. Our brother was all we had, and he was taken from us. You know, that if it had been one or both of us that died, he would have done whatever was necessary to avenge us. I need you to be strong, Jed. I need you to look at the greater picture. I need you to think of how much we loved our brother, and how much we hate the man who killed him. Nothing else matters, you understand me?"

Jed gulped. "Yes, Reid. I understand."

That was his first and last lie to his twin brother.

CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC

Molly opened her eyes to the feeling of Mohinder shaking her gently. He smiled. "Sweetheart, we need you to find him again. Can you do that?"

"I just need the map," she said groggily.

Her request was postponed when they all heard the phone ring in the other room. Claire answered it. "Yes?" she said quickly.

"Is this the lovely lady that's been traveling with the Great Killer?" a raspy voice said on the other line. All the blood drained from Claire's face.

"Claire? What's wrong?" Matt asked. Claire looked at him in terror, but turned back to the phone.

"Who is this?" she asked.

There was a chuckle. "Oh you know who it is. You've been trying to find me. Well, I'm tired of running. I'd like to meet that special man who has made all of this possible."

Sylar was at her side in an instant. "Give me the phone," he directed. Claire put it into his hand.

"You've got me. Now what the hell do you want?" Sylar asked.

"Tsk tsk, friend. Is that any way to speak to me? I'm such a great admirer of yours."

"You've been killing people just to get my attention. How should I talk to you?"

"Like someone you would have respect for. I-I feel such a kinship to you, Sylar. Like a protégée would feel to his master. I think that if we met, we'd have such a lovely time. In fact, that's why I'm calling. I'd like to meet the man who made me what I am. I figured the polite thing to do would be to call and make a date."

"You're all heart. When do you want to meet?"

"Well, it's been a long day for all of us, what with you just arriving in town and then having to investigate a murder. Why don't we meet tomorrow, just you and me?"

"Where?"

There was a pause. "Why don't you use that lovely little tracking system of yours to get my location? At seven am tomorrow, have her find me. And I promise, I won't harm any other innocent people before we meet. _After_ we meet…well, that's a different story."

Sylar hung up the phone and turned to his allies. "He wants to meet me tomorrow," he told them.

"Where?" Claire asked.

Sylar shook his head. "Somehow, he found out about Molly. He told me to have her find his location tomorrow morning."

Matt sighed. "It looks like we have no choice but to meet him then. We're just going to have to wait."

"It's getting late anyway," Claire said. "We should all try to get some rest."

Mohinder then entered the room and Matt pulled him aside and explained it to him. Claire looked at Sylar. "Are you ok?" she asked.

"Of course," Sylar said, somewhat puzzled. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know," she replied, almost shyly. "This guy seems to know you so well…I didn't know if it unnerved you."

"Claire," Sylar began. "I'm going to face him tomorrow, and that will be it. Then we'll be on our way. There's nothing to it."

She nodded. "Right." Then she thought of something else. "I think…as far as sleeping arrangements go, I'll stay with Molly and Mohinder. Molly and I will bunk together."

Sylar raised a brow. "All right. I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Right! Tomorrow then." Claire walked back to Mohinder and Molly's room.

After the young woman left the room, Matt walked up to Sylar. "You know I'm not going to let you face this guy alone," he told his former enemy.

Sylar smirked. "All of a sudden you're concerned for my safety, Parkman? I didn't know you cared."

"I don't," Matt snapped. "At least, not as far as you're concerned. I want to make sure everything goes down the way it should. That nothing…gets corrupted."

"Corrupted? Oh, I get it. You think that I'm going to meet this guy and he's going to coax me back into being a murderer."

Matt shrugged. "It's not impossible."

"You really think I would do that, even though you saw into me and know how I feel?"

"Better men than you have betrayed those closest to them."

Sylar shrugged and nodded. "True enough. I'll see you tomorrow."

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Reid hung up the phone and prepared to leave. "You know what to do," he told his brother.

Jed stared at him. "And—and you're sure this is going to work?"

"Will you stop doubting me? It's perfect! The son-of-a-bitch's little girlfriend is also his tracking system! Not only will he lose what he cares for the most, but he'll be lost without her! Now I have to go," he said, then, thinking, he turned back and put his hands on his brother's shoulders. "You're all I have left, Jed," Reid told him. "You're the only thing I care about. I need to know that I can count on you."

Jed swallowed. "You can count on me, Reid. You're all I have too."

"Good. I'll be back soon with our guest. Make sure we have everything ready for her."

With that, he left.

Jed sighed and prepared what Reid wanted. The table with restraints. The surgical tools—knives, scissors, drill. The drugs, labeled neatly in the bottles. The needles for injection. They were going to enjoy this. And the best part was, Sylar couldn't do a thing to stop them.

CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC

Molly couldn't sleep. Truthfully, she had slept for a good part of the day. But that wasn't the whole reason. She also couldn't sleep because the Boogey-Man, the old Boogey-Man, was close by.

She didn't know what to think of him. Mohinder had always told her he'd keep her safe from the Boogey-Man, and now he had to work with him. Matt too. She knew they didn't trust him and didn't want to have to work with him, but she knew that they had to.

She turned over in the bed and saw Claire lying there, fast asleep. Molly liked the older girl. After they had agreed to stop for the day, Claire went to MacDonald's and got her a happy meal, then played with her with the toy that came with it. She wondered if this was what it was like to have a big sister, someone who played with you and slept next to you when you were scared. She had been an only child and didn't really know what it was like to have a large family. Now, she realized, all she had was Matt and Mohinder.

Niki and D.L. had offered to take her in after the whole thing with the exploding man. Micah was especially excited about it. But then Molly saw the look on Mohinder's face and she knew she had to stay with him. He was very lonely.

At last she couldn't stay in bed any longer and she crept out of bed, careful not to awaken Claire. She tiptoed past the room where Matt and Mohinder were; she could hear their voices inside, trying to make sense of all that had happened to them in the last few hours. She was rounding the corner of the outside porch of the hotel when she stopped in her tracks. The old Boogey-Man was standing there, looking down at the parking lot from the balcony.

She was about to walk away, but she heard him say, "You might as well stay. I heard your heart beat as loud as a drum." He turned around, then seemed shaken. He hadn't realized it had been her.

He swallowed. "What are you doing here?" he asked, in a surprisingly kind-sounding way.

Molly stared at him with a mix of awe and fear. She tried to speak, but no words came out. After several seconds had past, he groaned and turned back to the railing.

Finally Molly found her voice. "Are you scared?" she asked.

He looked back at her. "Of what? Of you?" he scoffed.

"No," Molly said, rubbing her big toe on the ground. "I mean, of the new Boogey-Man."

Sylar smirked and walked a little closer to her. "Boogey-Men don't fear anything."

Molly's eyes widened. "Even other Boogey-Men?"

"_Especially _other Boogey-Men."

"Get away from her!" a voice called. It was Mohinder, who ran up to Molly and swept her into his arms. He glared at Sylar, then looked at his young charge. "What on earth are you doing out here?" he demanded.

"I couldn't sleep. I'm sorry Mohinder." Molly looked down in shame.

Mohinder put Molly down and said. "It's all right, love. Go back to bed now." Obediently Molly scuttled away.

Mohinder now looked at Sylar. "Stay away from Molly. We may have to work with you, but there's no reason why you need to speak to her."

"She came up to me and spoke to me, Mohinder. If you want her to keep her distance, you'd better talk to her, not me."

Mohinder opened his mouth to argue, but then stopped. "Fair enough. I will." He turned to walk away.

"Mohinder…Molly's parents wanted to "fix" her," Sylar called out. This made the Indian geneticist stop in his tracks and turn back around.

"What do you mean, 'fix her'?" he asked coolly.

"I followed them for days, trying to figure out what their powers were. It turns out that it was only Molly who had powers that had manifested. Her parents were horrified and were trying to find specialists who would tamper with her DNA and get rid of her abilities."

"Even so. That was no reason for you to kill them," Mohinder argued.

"They had no right to take that away from her!" Sylar cried. "She was born an extraordinary child, with so much potential. She was going to be mutilated because her parents were fearful, silly fools!"

"How dare you judge the Walkers," Mohinder hissed. "You were going to kill Molly yourself, just to get her power!"

Sylar shook his head in frustration. "I was never going to kill Molly. I infiltrated the police station where she was being kept so that I could take her with me and make her my…protégée," he explained, using the same word their copy-cat killer had used on the phone. "I killed her parents because I knew they were going to rob her of an incredible gift, one that I knew I could cultivate in her."

Mohinder was silent for a while, then came to a realization. "You were going to use her to find other people with abilities so you could kill them and steal them!" He backed away. "You're despicable. I hope this is all over tomorrow so that I never have to see you again."

Sylar chuckled. "You're not going to get rid of me that easily, Mohinder. We're always going to be linked through your father."

Mohinder glared at him. "I'm my father's son. You're my father's murderer. Don't get on your high horse too quickly."

Sylar frowned. "You think because I killed Chandra that I didn't care for him; I did. And after he was dead, I mourned for him, just like I mourned my own father."

Mohinder grimaced and shook his head. "You murdered him and then mourned him? You're unbelievable."

"He gave me hope!" Sylar exploded. "He walked into my store and gave me the one thing I had wanted all my life: the knowledge that I was special. And then, just like that, he took it away from me, no compassion at all. So I made myself special. And when I convinced him, he treated me like his son. He—he filled the gap that was left after my father died," he turned away and looked into the night. "But I couldn't stop after I had killed once. The possibility of having all those powers… Well, Chandra found out, and wanted nothing to do with me. I lost him. It was like losing my father all over again. So, I killed him. He had given me this great hope, and then took it away. I couldn't forgive him for that."

Mohinder couldn't believe it, but he actually felt a twinge of compassion in his heart for the tall dark murderer. There was none of the self-assured sarcasm, snide remarks, or taunts that were usually part of Sylar's personality. There was just…an honest confession. Even so, Mohinder wasn't sure that would be enough for him to ever forgive Sylar one day.

He sighed. "When you find the copy-cat tomorrow, try to capture him alive. I'd like to do some research on him." With that, he walked back to his room.

As he opened the door to his room, a ghastly sight met his eyes. Molly was lying face down sideways on the bed, Claire was missing. He ran to the child and held her in his arms, trying to wake her.

"Help! Matt! Sylar!" he cried. The two men were in the room in a second.

"Where's Claire?" Sylar demanded.

"I don't know. I found Molly facedown on the bed," Mohinder replied, now lightly slapping the little girl's face.

Matt looked on the wall and found, to his dismay, splatters of blood. "I don't think Claire walked out of here willingly."

Sylar looked at the wall in horror, then turned to Mohinder. "You need to wake her up," he shouted. "We need her to find Claire!"

Mohinder gently turned the child's head, only to find a puncture wound at the base of her neck. He sighed. "She's been drugged. And depending on the type of drug and the amount, Molly might be out for hours."

Sylar yelled in frustration and telekinetically sent a lamp flying across the room and against the door, shattering its ceramic body into pieces.

The former police officer and the geneticist looked at each other. They were both feeling a sympathy they never thought they would be capable of.

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Her eyes slowly opened to a bright light shining painfully into them. She shut them again tightly and winced. She then tried to move her arms, finding that they were shackled to the table she was lying on. A test of her legs revealed the same condition.

She exhaled sharply and closed her eyes. She tried to remember exactly how she had ended up here. She remembered waking up and finding Molly gone, and, feeling a weight on her bladder, went to the bathroom. When she returned, the little girl was lying on the bed facedown, a drop of blood beginning to form at her neck. Before she even made it to her she felt something heavy slam the back of her head, and then it was all darkness. She realized then that her head felt wet right now, most likely the blood from the wound.

She was cold. She couldn't see anything else in the room, because the light was shining so intensely in her face. She wondered if she should call out to someone, or just keep her mouth shut and pretend to still be out. The choice was taken away from her when she heard a voice say, "Ah, you're awake. I would have thought you'd be out for hours. You must be tougher than you look."

Claire heard footsteps getting closer, until there was a face in front of hers. It was a man with blond hair, who appeared to be in his early twenties. His blue eyes crinkled when he smiled. "So. You're Sylar's only weakness."

Claire pulled at her bonds, knowing it was futile. "What do you want from me?" she demanded.

Then another voice spoke, this time from the darkness. "From you? Nothing. We merely want Sylar to pay, and, unfortunately for you, you are our method of torment." The voice grew closer, until Claire saw another man with the same face as the first. His smile was just as disturbing.

She swallowed. "He's a killer. We've only been thrown together on a journey. I mean nothing to him," she tried to convince them, but knew that it wouldn't.

"Oh, I don't think so. You see, my brother Jed and I have been following you two for the last few weeks," the second man told her, "and from what I've seen, you're trying to reform him."

Claire rolled her eyes. "That doesn't mean it's working."

"Well, he may not care about the rest of the world, but he certainly cares for you," the first man, called "Jed" told her, gently stroking her cheek. "That's all we need to make him suffer."

Claire pulled her face from his grasp. "Why do you hate him?"

The two men laughed simultaneously. Then the second man spoke up. "Surely you must realize a man like Sylar would have plenty of people for enemies. People who have lost loved ones due to his selfish crusade of self-betterment. Our loved one happened to be Zane Taylor. Sylar pretended to be him for a while, after brutally murdering him, of course." Claire could see both faces of the men darken with emotion after that admission.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Claire said. "But why are you killing innocent people? Shouldn't you be going after Sylar?"

"You should know better than anyone else that Sylar is all but invincible," Jed told her. "It took us months to form a plan of revenge."

"But then, we realized that Sylar had all of a sudden stopped killing," Jed's brother cut in. "We couldn't understand why. So we followed the trail."

"And we learned that the Great Killer was traveling with someone—an attractive, young girl who had the power to find anyone in the world. There was finally someone he cared for. We finally found our revenge."

Claire stared in confusion. Did they think that she had Molly's tracking abilities? They must have. She couldn't let on that they were wrong and possibly endanger Molly's life. She'd keep up the pretense.

"So you think that keeping me prisoner will prevent Sylar from finding me. Very clever," she told them.

"Thank you," they said together. "So we committed the copy-cat murders so that Sylar would try to track us down. And it worked! Now here you are, and our plan is complete."

"But you're harming innocent people in getting your revenge. You're no better than he is," Claire pointed out, hoping they'd listen.

The nameless one chuckled mirthlessly. "What does anyone else matter to us? The one person we loved most in this world is gone. You are merely a pawn in the game, a piece of collateral."

Claire's eyes widened in fear. "He'll kill you for this," she said softly.

The nameless brother held her chin tightly in his hand. "Maybe so. But at least we'll make him hurt." He then turned to Jed, who had been standing in the corner, his arms crossed. "Do what you do best, brother," he told him.

Jed walked over to the table, and gently pushed up her pajama shirt. Claire gasped as she saw his finger turn from a natural peach color to a bright, almost blinding, neon pink. He aimed it at the smooth plane of her stomach, and a bright stream of light emerged.

The room was soon filled with the gut-wrenching cries of a young woman.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Mohinder handed a paper cup of water to Matt, who gratefully took it and gulped it down. He looked out the open door and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "He's been gone for three hours," Matt told his friend. "He doesn't think he's going to find them that easily."

"Sylar is no ordinary man," Mohinder said quietly. "If he wants to find someone, he'll find them."

Matt shook his head. "This is all his fault. If Claire gets hurt, it's because of him. What the hell is she doing with him anyway?"

Mohinder sighed and went back to the bed where his young charge was still working the drugs she'd been given out of her system. He took her little hand in his. "She's looking for hope," he told Matt. "I—I don't know what's happened between the two of them, but I know that she's given him all she could, more than anyone could, I think. I just hope that he gives her all he has as well."

"I just wish he had let me go with him," Matt sighed. After Mohinder told them that Molly would need time to get the drugs out of her system, Sylar rushed out of the hotel. Matt ran after him, only to get a look so menacing from Sylar that he turned back.

Mohinder looked up at Matt, and smiled bitterly. "He doesn't need anyone. He's Sylar."

"You're right, Mohinder," a voice said. They turned to see Sylar, standing in the doorway. "Has she awakened yet?"

Mohinder shook his head. "We're going to have to find another way to locate Claire."

Sylar slowly walked to one of the beds and sat down. "I know a way. But I've been afraid to try it."

Matt held up his hands. "Sylar, if it's the only way…you have to."

Sylar shook his head. "You might not like what you see."

"It doesn't matter," Mohinder said, walking to him. "Look. If Claire was in your place, would she do it? If it meant saving you?"

Sylar chuckled mirthlessly. "She's already saved me."

Matt nodded. "Do it, then."

Sylar sighed. "I'm going to need a piece of paper and a pencil."

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Jed and Reid stared in amazement. "I don't believe it," Jed whispered. They were looking at the girl's stomach, which at that point should have had a nasty third degree scar, but was instead as smooth and honey colored as before. She didn't even seem to be in pain. She seemed to be more frustrated than anything else.

Reid took her face roughly in his hands. "How did you do that?" he demanded.

She stared at him closely, then took a deep breath in and, without warning, spit in his face.

In thoughtless retaliation, Reid wrenched Claire's head until he heard a sickening crack. He had broken her neck.

"You killed her," Jed said, almost in wonder.

Reid let go of the golden colored head and exhaled sharply. "I guess I did."


	4. Chapter 4

Seeing the blonde haired girl with the broken neck reminded Jed immediately of Jackie Forbes. Reid had chosen her because she had the same name as the girl Sylar killed in Texas. It had been a beautiful Saturday morning, and he and Reid had been tracking her for days. Finally, she was completely alone. She'd decided to go for a run in the woods by the high school she used to attend.

Standing behind the trees, Jed couldn't help but feel attracted to the tall blonde haired woman as she ran, clad in tight, black, athletic spandex. He felt a pull of doubt about what he was going to do, but Reid was as quick to pounce as a predatory cat. He appeared from his camouflaged state right in front of the woman, and before she could scream, used a taser to stun her.

As she fell to the ground, Reid hissed, "Now, Jed! Do it!" And Jed sighed and made a quick, clean cut across her head.

As they drove on that night, Reid feeling very smug behind the wheel, Jed realized that this was now his reality. There would never be any turning back.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Matt and Mohinder watched in awe as Sylar's eyes went from a milky white back to their original charcoal hue. The picture was complete. Sylar looked it over and winced, then threw it on the bed, walking to the wall and hitting it.

Cautiously Matt picked up the picture and looked at it, then raised a brow. Mohinder walked over to him. "Let me see," he asked. He looked at it for a few seconds, then put it down. The Indian doctor looked at the man he'd always considered an enemy and sighed. "You're going to kill again, if your predictions are true," he said, knowing it was unnecessary to say so.

"And it's given us no more information about where Claire is," Sylar said.

Mohinder sighed. "Well, Sylar, she is…mostly indestructible," he tried to reason. "There is a good chance they won't—can't—kill her."

"That's not the point, Mohinder," Sylar snapped. "If Claire is suffering, it's because of me. God! I never should have allowed her to talk me into this stupid trip. I should have made her go back to her family. Didn't she know she wasn't ever going to change me? That picture clearly shows—I'm going to kill again!"

Mohinder was about to speak again until the sound of a juvenile moan caught his ears. They all looked to see Molly, shifting in the bed. They ran to her.

"Is she waking?" Sylar asked anxiously.

Mohinder nodded. "It appears so. Molly? Love?" he asked, combing his fingers lightly through her hair.

"I'll go get the map from the other room," Matt said.

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Claire groaned in her effort, as she twisted her head back into place. This was starting to get really annoying. The two men just stared at her. Then finally, Reid spoke. "You're not the tracking system, are you?" he deduced. "Your power is healing. You can't be harmed!"

"You're a freaking genius," Claire barked at him. "Since you now see the pointlessness in all of this, why don't you just let me go?"

Jed seemed to be agreeable to that, but Reid gave him a twisted, evil smile. "I don't think so," he said. "Granted, torturing you might be more of a challenge now, but that only means we'll have to get…creative. And my oh my, do we have the tools to try! Jed?"

Jed moved out of the way to reveal the various tools of torture at their fingertips. For the first time since this had started, Claire feared for her life.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Molly opened her eyes to find the three men practically swarming around her like bees. She jumped back in alarm.

Mohinder spoke. "Give her some room," he ordered Sylar and Matt. Obediently they stepped back.

"He took Claire," Molly said flatly. They looked at her, surprised.

Mohinder put his hands on her shoulders. "Who was it, love? What can you tell us?"

"It was the new Boogeyman," she said in a frightened voice. "He can make himself disappear. That's his power."

"You mean invisibility?" Sylar asked.

Molly shook her head. "I don't know how. Somehow…he makes himself look like the stuff around him. He's there, but you can't see him."

"Like camouflage," Matt suggested.

"Molly," Sylar began. "Do you know where the New Boogey-Man took Claire?"

Molly looked at him intently. "He's not like you," she said in a soft, strange voice. "He's worse than you. You hurt people because you want what they have. He hurts people because he likes to hurt. And he's going to hurt Claire to hurt you."

Sylar stood up. "Give her the map," he told Matt.

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By now, they had broken nearly every bone in her body, and had found the way to prevent her bones from re-setting themselves. They first broke her right index finger, and found, with growing frustration, that the finger snapped itself back into place. Then Jed got the brilliant idea of pumping her full of muscle relaxant, because apparently if her muscles weren't working, they wouldn't bring the bones back together.

Claire lay there, her head thrown back, trying to hold back a sob. The only thing they hadn't broken was her nose; if they had, there was a good chance that blood would run down her throat and drown her. She'd found a whole new world of pain.

Reid looked down on her with almost a hungry look in her eyes. "Let's cut her open," he said to Jed. "But don't use your laser. Let's use a good old fashioned knife."

Jed obediently brought Reid a shiny surgical knife, and the latter gracefully took it in his left hand and looked down at his patient, who was now pleading with him with her eyes.

"I bet you're regretting spitting in my face, aren't you baby?" he said.

Claire swallowed. "Yes," she whispered.

Reid shrugged. "Too late now," he said, and without warning plunged the knife deep into her warm insides.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

"I'm trying," Molly insisted, squeezing her eyes together tightly. "I'm—I'm just so tired…"

"Molly, Claire's life might be at stake!" Matt urged. "Please—you have to try harder!"

"We can't force her!" Mohinder argued. "She's just a child, and she's been through a very traumatic experience. She needs time!"

"And with all the time we're giving her, Claire might be dying," Sylar almost shouted. "The longer we wait, the more he gets away with!"

"Claire wouldn't want Molly to hurt herself looking for her—I'm sure of it!" Mohinder shouted back.

"I can do it Mohinder," Molly said, pushing herself up in bed. She took a deep breath, then went into her trance. The men watched as her finger moved across the map, then finally settled on a particular spot.

"She's there—with them," Molly stated.

"_Them_?" Matt repeated.

"I could see two men—they have the same face," Molly explained. "They're both there, with Claire."

Sylar looked the child in the face. "Where?" he demanded.

Molly tapped the map. "There. That's where I see them."

Mohinder took the spot she pinpointed and searched the internet for it. He frowned and went back to the bed. "Darling, are you sure? There are no buildings there."

Molly nodded with conviction. "That's the place."

"Maybe it's below ground," Matt suggested.

"It's a good hiding spot," Sylar admitted. "But I'm going to find them," he said, walking out the door.

"And I'm going with you," Matt said, following.

Sylar stopped. "Parkman, I'm not going to do anything--"

"I know you're not," Matt interrupted. "I just thought…you might want some backup."

For the first time since Matt had known him, Sylar smiled with complete sincerity and walked on. Matt did as he had promised—he followed.

CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC

They saw the body jerk as Jed tore it out. He stared at it in his hands in shock. It was still warm and beating, after all. He wasn't prepared for that.

Reid was panting. From what, Jed didn't know. "You did good Jed," Reid told him.

Jed didn't answer. He just stared at the human heart he held in his hands. He couldn't believe he had done it.

Reid clapped him on the shoulder. "We gotta go, bro. If all indications are correct, the little girl was the tracking system, and she's probably gonna wake up soon and lead Sylar right to us. We need to be out of here." He began to walk away, then stopped and turned when he realized Jed wasn't following.

Reid was getting irritated. "Jed, come on! She's dead, we did what we came to do. Now stop staring at the damn thing and come on!"

Jed finally turned and looked at Reid. "We really killed her, Reid. And we really killed those other people too. What have we done?"

Reid rolled his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. Did he really have to have this conversation with him again? "We've avenged Zane, that's what we've done. Just like he'd do for us. Now put that thing down and come with me."

Jed sighed. Where else could he go? Reid was right; he couldn't stay there. Finally he gently put the heart, now cold, on the table beside the body. He walked out with Reid.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

They left just in time to avoid Sylar, as the former serial killer realized that the spot Molly had marked on the map was an abandoned subway station. The doors were sealed, and Matt took out his gun, prepared to shoot open the lock, but Sylar brought his hands together and apart sharply, making the doors collapse and fly into the hallway.

Sylar stalked through the dark hallway. "Claire? Claire!" he called. He turned to his unlikely partner. "Parkman? Do you…hear anything?"

Matt shut his eyes and rubbed his head, knowing fully well that it didn't help to do that, but it made his effort seem more visible. "I can't hear anything, man. Not from anyone. She might be—might be…out," he said hopefully.

Sylar turned around and kept walking. Then he felt his foot slip under him, and would have fallen if not for Matt's hand grabbing his arm. Sylar cleared his throat and quickly shook it off. He didn't want to bond with this guy. He still hated him, after all.

"I slipped on something," Sylar told him.

"That's what I figured. Unfortunately, we have no light," Matt replied.

Sylar sighed, then remembered something. "Stand back," he told him.

Matt complied, and Sylar used the power he took from Ted Sprague to light up the hallway—light, not heat.

Matt gasped and stood against the wall. "It's blood! You slipped on blood!"

He was right. There, on the floor, right next to a metal door, was a dark red, almost black, puddle. The viscous liquid was coming through from the bottom of the door.

Sylar gave Matt a worried look, then, motioning for him to step back, he used his telekinesis to do the same thing to this door that he did to the previous one.

Holding up his radioactive hand like a torch, Sylar walked in, followed by Matt. The sight that met them stopped them both in their tracks.

"Oh my God," Matt managed to mutter.

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"Drink it all up, darling. It'll help work those drugs out of your system," Mohinder told Molly, handing her a glass of milk. She was now sitting up in bed, squinting as the sun began to rise and come through the curtains.

Molly smiled and swallowed some of the milk. "Mohinder, do you think Matt and the B—Sylar—will find Claire?" she asked her guardian.

Mohinder sighed and took the glass from Molly when she was done. "I don't know. I hope they find her soon."

As if someone heard Mohinder's request, the phone rang, and he got up to answer.

It was Matt. "You have to come down here," the former cop said in a terribly broken voice.

Mohinder furrowed his brow. "What happened? Did you find Claire?"

"Yeah…yeah, we found her. But the way we found her—oh God, Mohinder. They—they butchered her!"

Mohinder turned at looked at Molly, who looked at him in fear. "I'll be right there," he said to Matt, and hung up.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Jed just stared at his food. He had no appetite. He had killed three people before, and tore a girl apart, and now it finally hit him.

It hadn't hit Reid yet, apparently. He was tucking into his food with a vigor usually reserved for after a marathon run. After abandoning the subway station, Reid felt terribly hungry. So they found a diner across town and stopped in there, planning to run as soon as they were done. Finally he realized his brother wasn't eating, and put down his fork for the first time since their food had arrived.

"What's wrong? Burger's bad?" Reid asked with food still in his mouth.

Jed shook his head, his eyes beginning to form tears. "How can you sit there and eat like nothing just happened? I—I just ripped the heart out of a girl!" his voice broke and he held his head in his hands.

Reid groaned and took another bite of his French toast. Jed continued to sob.

"How did we become monsters, Reid? All we wanted was to avenge our brother's death, and we've become just as bad as his killer! Even Sylar wouldn't do what we did," Jed moaned.

Reid's chewing slowed down. He was really beginning to tire of this bitching and whining. He sighed. The wrong brother had been killed. Granted, Zane wasn't the bravest, or the cleverest. But he was loyal, and if Reid needed him, he'd do whatever was necessary. But it was Zane that was taken from him, and Reid was now stuck with this irritating little coward he had to call brother. He just didn't understand. Well, they had done what they set out to do. Reid was sure that Sylar had found his little girlfriend by now, and now was bearing the brunt of all of his crimes. Technically…he didn't need Jed anymore.

Reid wiped his mouth, then put down his napkin and looked at Jed, who was now wiping his eyes. "Come on," he said, throwing down some money and getting up. "There are some things we need to take care of." He walked out of the diner, Jed following behind.

For some reason, Reid sped up his walking, then quickly rounded a corner. Jed was confused. "Reid?" he called. "The car's not parked there!" Curious, Jed walked around the corner, into the alleyway. Reid wasn't there.

Jed looked around, confused. Behind him, the background of trashcans and boxes began to shimmer and transform, and eventually, the shape of a man could be distinguished. An arm went up, and a gun was fired. Three shots went into Jed's back.

Jed, stiffened, then, feeling the life drain out of him, fell to the ground. Reid materialized completely from his camouflage. He looked down at his brother and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Jed," Reid said. "You made me do this." He heard the cries of people who had heard the shot, and knew he'd have to run. Shifting back to camouflage mode, he easily blended into the scenery and walked off.

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Mohinder and Molly took a taxi to the spot that Molly had identified. Mohinder didn't like taking Molly with him, especially after what Matt had said over the phone, but he didn't have a choice.

Matt was standing there, waiting for them. Immediately he walked over to them and took Molly in his arms. "We'll wait here," Matt told him. "Just follow the stairs…and the trail of blood," he added quietly.

Mohinder felt his heart go numb, but he nodded and followed the instructions. As he got closer, the smell of blood hit him strongly. He got to a doorway, and Sylar appeared like a ghost in the threshold.

"Mohinder…" he said in a broken voice.

The geneticist swallowed. "What happened to her?" he asked.

Sylar stepped aside and allowed Mohinder to walk in. Mohinder saw Claire for the first time since she had been kidnapped, and the sight made him turn and vomit the contents of his stomach into the hallway.

"Mohinder…" Sylar said again. Mohinder looked up, wiped his mouth, and nodded. He took a deep breath and steeled himself. He walked back in.

She was lying on a table, in restraints. It looked as if all the bones in her body had been broken, as some of her limbs were twisted in unnatural angles. But that was the least of the horror. She had been cut open, her rib cage broken and opened like a window, and there, where her heart should have been, was an empty hole. The vital organ now lay next to her fractured hand. There was blood everywhere—on her, the table, the floor, running into the hallway.

"Ohh…dear God," Mohinder finally managed to say. He clutched the end of a counter, his head and chest feeling cold.

Sylar stood there, looking down on her, into her open, blue, lifeless eyes. "Even with everything I've done—all the people I killed—I never could have brought myself to do something like this. I never wanted to make anyone suffer, I just…wanted what they had." He gently touched Claire's forehead. "They did this to her. To get to me. Molly was right. They hurt her to hurt me."

Mohinder gulped. "You called me here…to help you clean her up? Bury her?"

Sylar spun around. "What the hell are you talking about? I called you here so you could save her life."

Mohinder was puzzled. "Sylar…she's dead. Granted, I know she has incredible healing powers, but…but…"

Sylar walked over to Mohinder and put his hands on his shoulders. "She can be brought back. We still have her heart. You-you can put it back into her. Her brain is still intact. That's what is vital."

"Sylar…"

"You're a doctor. You can do this."

"I'm a geneticist, not a surgeon. This isn't my field of expertise!"

"But you know something about this! Please, Mohinder, you're the only one who can do this."

Mohinder looked at the man who had caused so much misery and pain, who now himself was in agony and was pleading with him. But how could he bring Claire back to life? He knew nothing about doing a surgery like this.

Sylar continued to stare intently at him. "Mohinder. I know I've wronged you. Greatly. You could call us even. I caused you a great pain, and now I'm hurting as well. But—but Claire doesn't deserve this to happen to her! Please. I'm not asking for _me_. I'm asking for _her_. Please. Save her life!"

Mohinder sighed. He thought of his father in that moment, trying to prove his theories, trying to keep Mohinder away from it all. He thought of what Sylar had told him about his feelings for Chandra. But he couldn't think of his father right now. He couldn't think of the one he couldn't save. He had to think of the one he could.

"All right," he relented. He looked around. "From the looks of it, most of the tools we need are here. We're going to need to wash everything…and clean up the blood." He now walked up to Sylar, who was still staring down at Claire's body. "I want to warn you…I make no promises. I don't know if I can bring her back or not."

Sylar turned to him, his eyes dark and piercing. "I understand. All I want is for you to try."

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

He had replaced Claire's heart, reattaching the aorta. As gently as he could, he brought the ribcage back together, then the flaps of flesh that had been cut open. But the skin didn't mend itself the way it had when Claire had been on the autopsy table before. Mohinder looked down at it and sighed, then turned to his assistant. "I'm going to need a needle and thread."

Sylar looked through the tools on the counters, and finally found a sharp needle and twine. "Will this work?" he asked, handing it to Mohinder.

Mohinder took it and nodded. "We have no choice."

Carefully he stitched the two flaps of flesh together, bringing the ends tight together so that air would not leak in. He did two rows, back and forth. Then he covered her with the shirt she had been wearing.

They waited. Nothing.

After ten minutes, Mohinder sighed and walked to the counter, leaning against it. He was dreading having to say it, but he had to. "She's not coming back this time, Sylar. She's reached the point of no return."

"No. No, she hasn't, Mohinder," Sylar said calmly. "We just need to give her more time." He leaned over Claire's body, her eyes still glazed over, her skin a lifeless pale. "Claire? Claire, I know you can hear me." He took her bruised and broken hand in his. "Chief…" he said in a tender, hoarse voice.

Still, there was no response. Mohinder tried to say what he needed to say as delicately as he could. "We need to track down Claire's parents…and tell them what's happened."

"No!" Sylar cried. The box of surgical instruments suddenly flew off the table and smashed against the wall. Mohinder watched in fear as all the objects on the counter began to fly and hit the walls at various angles. He ducked into a corner and shielded his head, fearing that something might hit him.

"I'm not going to let her go!" Sylar cried, still holding Claire's hand. It was then that he realized that the hand, which had been cold up until then, had some warmth in it.

Gasping, he dropped it. Curious, Mohinder walked closer to the table and stood next to Sylar. The two men watched in amazement as the bones in the hand began to reshape themselves, the skin regaining its natural color. There was a disturbing thunder of cracking sounds as the bones in Claire's body began to come together as they were supposed to, fusing and unfusing where necessary.

Intrigued, Mohinder pulled up the girl's shirt to reveal that the skin was now growing together, the twine unloosening itself from its fleshy material.

Finally, the pale, glossy look in Claire's eyes vanished, and she took a deep breath in and coughed raggedly.

"You were right," Mohinder said in wonder. "She's alive."

Claire looked down at herself, then at the two men and sat up, pulling her shirt closely around her. "What the hell's going on?" she demanded. "Why was I lying topless on a table with you two staring at me?"

Sylar just shook his head. "We thought we'd lost you. Mohinder…well, he had to do some surgery on you."

That's when she remembered. "Jed and Reid!"

"Who?" Mohinder asked.

"They're the ones who kidnapped me!" Claire now turned to Sylar. "Do you remember someone named Zane Taylor?"

Sylar's and Mohinder's eyes both grew wide and they looked at each other. "We both remember Zane," Mohinder said, with some anger in his voice.

"He was their brother." Claire looked around. "Let's get out of here. We need to find them."

Mohinder helped Claire off of the table. Still looking at her, he said, "We should let Matt know Claire's fine." But when he turned, Sylar was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

He was remembering the last time he visited Zane's grave—the day before he and Jed went on their mission of revenge. He brought dark purple violets flanked with baby's breath, and laid them on the smooth, polished stone.

"We'll fight for you, Zany," Reid told him, using the nickname he used to tease him with but was now the dearest word in the book to him. "We might have to do some…terrible things, but it's all for you. We won't let what happened to you go unpunished."

He looked behind him, down the hill, where Jed stood stiffly against the car. Reid sighed. He wished that Jed was more confident. He had an incredible power, but he feared it. He just hoped that Jed wouldn't let him down.

But Jed had. Now, walking down the streets of Columbus, knowing he had to leave soon but not being able to do anything productive, Reid tried desperately to remember the promise he made to Zane to justify all he had done.

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He was remembering the night he killed Chandra Suresh. It was the only murder he had committed that wasn't premeditated—the only one which was spurred on by genuine emotion. He was so angry at Chandra. For giving him hope, for making him feel special and needed and loved…then rejecting him.

He had hidden in the back of his taxi, waiting for Chandra to get there. And when he did, and Sylar saw the back of the Indian doctor's head, he was so filled with rage he wanted to choke the life out of him. And he did.

And when he was done and saw what had happened, he grieved for days. Chandra had made him whole, had let him into his life. Chandra had turned dull, boring, ordinary Gabriel into the enigmatic Sylar, a force to be reckoned with. Now he was gone. And Sylar was alone, doomed to never be understood or ever really appreciated.

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He was remembering the first man he and Jed killed together. His name was Brian Randall, and they found him at a grocery store. He bought a head of lettuce, a bottle of coke, and a box of cookies. And when he was walking to his car, Reid, still camouflaged, pushed him hard against a wall, and beat him till he was black and blue. Then Jed used that special power they'd discovered together: he made a clean, quick cut across the guy's head, and he was dead before he even had the chance to scream.

Reid put his arm around Jed, who looked like he was going to be sick. Looking at Brian Randall, his head cut open, bleeding into the street, he wondered if Sylar felt the same way when he killed their brother.

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As he got to Sharp and Wall, the street corner he'd first sketched, he remembered the night he nearly killed Claire. This was one of the few murders he hadn't felt guilty about attempting. She was a cheerleader, an airheaded blonde who would probably just live on her parents', then her husband's money. She'd be protected all her life—what did she need with indestructibility?

What if he killed her, and gotten her power? He wouldn't be trying to find a copy-cat killer right now. Because he wouldn't care. But he cared now.

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John held the door open for Karen as they walked out of the movie theater. The sun was incredibly bright, or at least seemed so, after having been in a dark room for hours. They had decided to see an early matinee, both of them off of work that day.

They rounded the corner of the theatre and were almost to their car when something invisible seemed to grab John's collar and throw him against a wall. Karen screamed and ran to her husband, who seemed stunned.

They both gasped when from thin air, the outline of a person seemed to appear. It was a man with blond shaggy hair and wild blue eyes. He pointed a gun at them.

"Jed's gone," he told them. "He did this real good. But I can do it now." He cocked the gun and pointed at John.

But the gun flew out of his hands slid across the parking lot. In shock, Reid turned around to find Sylar behind him. With a flick of his wrist, Sylar sent his enemy flying sideways and smashed him against a car.

Sylar looked sideways at Reid's would-be victims. "Get out of here," he told them. Shaking, John helped his wife to her feet and they ran for their lives.

Sylar turned back to the car where he had thrown his rival, only to find he was gone. He narrowed his eyes and looked around. Then, without warning, he felt a sharp pain and heard a crack on the back of his head. He fell over.

A chuckle seemed to come out of thin air. Clutching his head, Sylar turned to see Reid materialize. "Aww, what's the matter, Killer? Did I hurt you?" he taunted. Sylar held up his hand to use his telekinesis as a weapon, only to have his target disappear again.

Sylar growled in frustration and got to his feet. "Why the hell don't you face me, coward? You like to pretend to be me, then look me in the eyes!"

"And why would I do that? This is so much more fun!" came Reid's disembodied voice.

Then, Sylar picked up the sound of a gun being cocked and a bullet being released from its chamber. He turned around just in time to stop a bullet from entering his chest. The point of the bullet just penetrated his shirt. The bullet fell to the ground with a thud.

Sylar walked toward the sound he had heard. "I know why you're doing this," he said. "I know you're Zane Taylor's brother and you think you're avenging him. But you're only bringing yourself down."

Suddenly the scenery melded together and Reid materialized again. "Did you enjoy killing him, you son of a bitch?" He held up his gun again and fired three times. Sylar stopped the bullets, then with his power turned them around towards Reid. The blond haired man gasped and disappeared again, blending once more into the environment just as the bullets flew through him.

"I didn't enjoy killing any of my victims," Sylar said in a low voice. "And I won't enjoy killing you." With that, he used his freezing power to make the air grow cold and the wind to blow chill. Keeping his eyes fixed in the space in front of him, his hair blowing in his eyes, Sylar watched for his moment.

"That's because…you won't have the chance," Reid's voice came stilted.

Sylar could pick up Reid's heart rate speeding up, his breathing getting faster to compensate for the reduced temperature and his sudden drop in body temperature. He was slowing down. Sylar pinpointed approximately where he was, but still couldn't see him.

Then it happened. His body focusing on trying to keep warm, Reid was unable to keep his camouflaged appearance with complete integrity. Sylar's telescopic eyes picked up just the faint trace of a shoulder.

"Gotcha," Sylar muttered. He held up his fist, catching his target by the throat. He brought his fist outward and slammed Reid against the wall of the theatre.

Reid gasped, and dropped his camouflage. Sylar was in his face in a moment.

He kicked to get free, knowing it was useless. "Go ahead!" he cried, looking down at Sylar. "Go ahead and kill me like you killed my brother! He didn't do anything to you! All he was was special! That was his only crime!"

Sylar was stopped in his tracks. Reid was right. All of Sylar's victims committed no crime; they were just special. But Reid had killed people just to kill. Even so: was Sylar the right person to be delivering justice?

Sylar tried to remember why he was doing this, lest he lose his nerve and let him go. "You killed Claire!" he yelled at the man, allowing him to think that his torture had been successful. "You made her suffer before she died! At least—at least when I did it, I never made anyone suffer!"

"Don't preach to me about right and wrong," Reid spat out. "You wouldn't care a thing about what I've done if it hadn't been your little girlfriend I captured. I bet you even tried to kill her yourself!"

"I did," Sylar admitted. "But I failed. And I'm glad I failed, because she's changed me." Then Sylar thought of a way to get to him. "Maybe you could have changed too, if you hadn't killed your brother."

Reid's eyes widened. "I had to kill him! He was going soft! He would have turned us in—I'm sure of it!"

"Well," Sylar said darkly, "You won't have to worry about that happening. Because I'm the last face you'll ever see." With that, he brought his finger to Reid's forehead.

Reid shuddered and gasped, feeling his molecules begin to collapse. "Are you—are you going to take my power?" he asked with his last bit of strength.

"No," Sylar whispered fiercely. "I'm only killing to end it all."

With that, Reid tossed his head back and cried shrilly as his entire body became nothing but a puddle of goo.

Sylar gasped, then backed away as the man he'd faced turned into a harmless pile of liquefied flesh. Slowly he turned around, to see Matt standing there, a horrified look on his face.

"Don't, Parkman. Just don't," Sylar ordered, turning around and walking away.

Matt caught up to him. "You killed him with the very power you took away from his brother, Zane Taylor. Mohinder told me what his ability had been. That's cold."

Sylar turned and looked at him. "Is that your summation as a do-right cop? Because I could care less," he snarled.

Matt looked at him evenly. "Yes it is." Scoffing, Sylar turned and resumed walking.

"But…also speaking as a man who loves his wife," Matt called out. "If it had been Janice who'd been tortured and cut open like that, I would have done the same thing."

With that comment, Sylar stopped, turned his head towards Matt's voice. Then he kept walking.

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"Really Mohinder, I'm fine," Claire insisted. Her savior-cum-surgeon was busy wrapping her in blankets. Molly was perched next to her, leaning her soft baby head on Claire's. The older girl pulled her arm out of the blankets and tenderly cupped the little girl's face.

"I know you think you're fine," Mohinder argued. "But you went through quite a trauma. Give yourself some time to breathe."

Claire grinned and laid her head against the pillows. "Breathing hasn't been on my priority list for a while."

Mohinder smiled back. Claire was quite beautiful. He could see why even someone like Sylar could be taken with her. But there was something that he wanted to ask her. He was pretty sure he knew the answer already, but he still had to try.

"Claire," Mohinder began, "I want you to consider something. Really think about it." He now came and sat by her. "I know how much…how much you want to do good in this world, with the power you've been given. That's what Matt and I want to do, too. But Sylar…" Mohinder's voice trailed off, as he looked at Molly, who had snuggled into Claire's side and was watching TV.

He took a dollar bill and held it out to his charge. "Sweetheart, go buy Claire a Snickers bar from the snack machine. She needs sugar and protein to regain her strength."

Molly looked at the dollar bill and then back at him. "Can I have another dollar to buy some M&Ms?"

Mohinder smirked and took out another dollar. "Here," he said. "But only buy one of each!" he called after her.

Claire watched as the little girl happily skipped from the room. "Sylar killed her parents," she said for confirmation.

Mohinder nodded. "He says it was because they were going to take her gift away, to make her normal. He killed them to stop them from "mutilating" her, as he put it."

Claire sighed in frustration. "I knew he had done terrible things, but--"

Mohinder cut in. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Claire, I know Sylar…seems to care for you a great deal, but…"

"But you think that eventually, he's going to revert to his old ways…or hurt me," Claire finished.

Mohinder nodded. "Can you blame me? Can you fault me for being concerned for anyone who puts her life in Sylar's hands?"

"No. I can't," Claire admitted. "If I were in your place, I'd probably feel the same way. But the thing is…well, Sylar is part of a greater plan. There's something coming soon. Something bigger than anything any of us have faced before. And Sylar is key to winning it. That's why he needs me. Because, in the end, we'll need him."

"Claire? Are you sure?" Mohinder asked softly.

She nodded. "I'm sure. You're not going to change my mind, Mohinder."

Mohinder nodded, feeling disappointed. Just then, Molly returned with the candy. She handed Claire her candy bar, which the older girl thanked her for with a kiss on the head.

"Are you going to stay with the Boogey-Man?" Molly asked.

Claire smiled at the little girl's candidness. "Yes, Molly. I have to keep him in line."

Molly nodded sagely. "Don't feel bad about it. If it hadn't been for him, I wouldn't have Mohinder," she said, smiling up at her guardian, who now had a surprised look on his face.

They sat in the hotel room for the rest of the afternoon, Molly lying in Claire's lap, Mohinder on the phone with a contact. The door opened and there were the remaining members of their group, looking somber. Molly jumped off of the bed and ran to Matt, who swept her off the ground and gave her a bear hug. Sylar looked at Mohinder, then Claire, who remained lying under the covers. She gave him her sad smile.

Sylar didn't return it. Instead, he looked at Mohinder. "Is she all right?"

"She's fine," Mohinder said shortly. "What about…our killers?"

Sylar shook his head. "One of them killed the other. And…I found the other one. He won't be a problem anymore."

Mohinder sighed and looked at Matt, who returned his pensive look. "I see." The Indian geneticist turned away and began to pack up the files he was looking through.

"I hope you're not too disappointed, Mohinder," Sylar said in his usual callous way.

Mohinder glanced at the serial killer casually. "You killed your protégée. Considering what he did to follow in your footsteps…I doubt there was ever any other option."

Sylar looked away. They were allies, not friends. Mohinder was never going to trust him. Matt was never going to trust him. But now…they were on the same side. And Sylar had the feeling that some day soon to come, he would have to rely on them again.

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Claire found it difficult to say goodbye to them, especially to Molly, who she couldn't help hoping she'd have a daughter similar to someday.

"Take care of Mohinder," she told her little friend.

"I will!" Molly said. "Take care of the Boogey-Man. Make sure he doesn't become bad again."

Claire looked over at Sylar, who was sitting at the gate a few feet away. He respectfully kept his distance from Mohinder, Matt, and Molly, knowing that they all still felt uneasy around him.

"I will," she told Molly.

After Mohinder gave her a hug, he handed her a slip of paper. "There's a woman in Louisiana who says her child is…special. She says she needs help. Maybe this is something you can do," he said, then added reluctantly, "with Sylar."

Claire smiled wryly. "Don't worry. If he tries anything, I'll kill him."

Mohinder began to smile until Claire's faded and she said, "I'm not kidding. I really will."

As Mohinder watched the blonde girl walk over to her dubious partner, he couldn't help but wonder if there were any more women in the world like her.

His reverie was broken when Matt clapped him on the back. "So, I guess we're headed back to New York."

"Sounds good," Mohinder said with a smile. "I have a ton of research to do for a paper I plan to write for my university."

"Taking it easy?"

"Yes. A break sounds good right now."


End file.
